The Miraculous Tales of Dr Agreste and Mr Noir
by CherisherAo3
Summary: In the streets of Paris, a monster lurks in the shadows. Man or beast, this night terror causes injury and fear within his destructive wake. This story is a Jekyll and Hyde crossover with Miraculous Ladybug. Can the reputation of Adrien Agreste, the renowned scientist, be at fault by the actions of this alter ego?
1. Monstre à Paris

The fog settles heavily on Paris' lively streets. It was the January of 1854 and the winter chill had long since set in. It was a mark of the New Year. The holiday party that reined the night wouldn't even stop for the light snow falling from the dark skies. The city had only started its mission to rebuild the city four years ago but much had changed in that time period. Mainly because they spent most of their time either doing work or arguing, but tonight was the night to settle differences and drink till merry.

The hundreds of tourists from all over the world come to see the great Mona Lisa and the famous city of France adorned in a thin lather of white. The city, usually bustling through the day, was even more so at night time. The Seine filled with river barges, each one packed to capacity, sailing lazily down the glistening water as dozens of café patrons sit and sip at their midnight night-caps. Heaters and open fires lined the walkways, surrounded by small groups of Parisians warming their hands.

Paris' main attraction, the Eiffel Tower was lit up with thousands of lamps illuminating the buildings and the park surrounding it. The night was loud and the parties were louder. Thousands of sightseers and Parisians take up the bottle to cheer the New Year. Countless families bound together in song as they sing from their rooftops and on the streets. Joyful children fill the parks as they twirl sparklers, Chinese firecrackers and French flags in the air. A few fireworks shoot into the fog, cracking explosions and spitting light into the cool night air.

Within the open courtyards of the Louvre, dozens of groups fill the open expanse. Some standing around in the falling snow waiting for a chance to see the inside of the museum, other merely socialising. This was truly a night to behold…

But in the many of the crowd stood one solemn group that did not have the intention of enjoying themselves that night. They kept to the side, discretely dressed in heavy trench coats like a majority of the people around them. It was winter in Paris after all, so they didn't look all too conspicuous. Being spread out evenly made them less noticeable while still within earshot of each other. One man with a bowler hat, dull orange hair and moustache stood in the centre of the line of men. He cleared his throat, turning his head ever so slightly to give his orders.

"Make sure you find him;" the man said indirectly to the collection of young rough looking men, "Papillon says this one's a trouble maker… And he wants him alive."

As previously directed, everyone in the troupe brought out batons and lead pipe pieces from inside their jackets. They discretely slid the blunt objects up their sleeves and hid them there, ready to use at a moment's notice. The orange haired man nodded to the crowded plaza with a serious tone, "Go on then, get a move on…"

"Find the monster of Paris."

One by one, the men disperse through the crowds of the Louvre. In a matter of moments, the men faded into the social circles, unbeknownst to the unsuspecting citizens. The orange haired man stayed behind, his expression neutral as the men disappear from his sight. He paces around the edges of the plaza, looking at the sea of joyful faces. None seem to know the trouble they could be in.

Of all the time of his employment, this monster was one terrifying opponent. Certainly the most dangerous and probably the one that needs most psychiatric attention.

The man stops in front of a lamp post and casually leans his shoulder against it. He gives the crowd one last glance before he pulls out a newspaper from inside his trench coat. He tips his black Bowler hat forward and intently looks into the newspaper articles named 'Le Père Duchesne'.

The headline in large print read: CHAT NOIR MONSTER TERRORISES LOCALS.

The man sighed at the headline and flicked open the thin paper to the second page. He was greeted with the sketchy grin of the monster, printed across the page in black and white. It was hunched over, a heavy cloak draped over its body and top hat in hand. The eye witness reports entailing the creature as tall, shadowy, with razor teeth and a snarling hiss. The reporter that probably wrote this article was exaggerating the witness accounts to make the papers sell, but that didn't stop the chill down his spine. The article below the illustration continued to report the characteristics this monstrosity.

'It wore man's clothing and took a man's appearance, but its nails like claws and its strength like a rhinoceros. No-one has seen its face and no-one dared find out. Could it be a myth or long lost fairy tale? The answer; no. For it is among us today.

The people of Paris fear the dark allies and kept to the lighted streets. People being robbed of their self-respect as the creature attacks them in the night. All the victims who were hospitalised said all they remember its piercing green eyes, like a black cat's, slitted and illuminating in the night. A major concerning problem was that this beast wasn't taking any money; just harming the innocent, terrorising them if it were a sick game. We ask that you stay indoors if you value your dignity.'  
– 1854, Alya Cesaire.

The man folded the newspaper back over and looked over the plaza. In a way, he was glad he was assigned this task of searching for this 'Chat Noir'. He had a certain dislike for people in general, but he had a special hate for the weird ones. Once he found this poor excuse for waste of time he could give the runt a good beating before putting him where he belongs.

Through the masses he spots his familiar faces of his men were returning, shuffling through people and making their way towards the lamp post. He straightened himself and stuffed the paper in his pocket.

"Anything?" he asked as they huddled around him.  
"Nothing, boss." One of the men said shrugging his shoulders. "He isn't here."  
"Well then go and look again!" the man demanded. "You were given a job, so do it!"  
"Come on Leon," another man said putting his hand on the man's shoulder, "he isn't going to show tonight. We all have a people to get back to… And it's New Years of all nights."

Leon turned his look at the rest of the mob. The men all looked at him with the plea. There weren't meant for non-desk work and were only put together for this one night. Leo puffed up his chest in haste. He didn't like doing this, but it seemed like the search was a bust. He could probably do a better job by himself anyway.

"Alright, and only because it's New Year's." he said pointing a stern finger at the group. He crossed his arms and nodded off behind him. "Come on, get away with you before I change my mind." The group gave a small appreciative smile for the man and dashed off in smaller groups before he kept his promise.

Alone on the edge of the Louvre's Plaza, Leon let out a heavy sigh and adjusted his hat. It wasn't the first time people were happy to get away from him. He didn't really mind…

He did one last look around the museum, just to make sure nothing was missed. Not that he didn't trust his men… but he didn't trust his men's capability to do a simple task. The idiots he called his men most likely did a half-hearted search and could have probably missed something (like a dead body or a crime scene). They weren't always the brightest in his books…

After a while, he was satisfied with his own little look around and decided to take a walk. He didn't want to celebrate the New Year, for there was more work to do, but he could at least allow himself a rest. He passed the hundreds of people in the plaza, not giving them another glance, and made his way to the Eiffel Tower. He was about a minute from arriving at the base of the Tower when he stopped to sit in the park adjacent to it.

The dimly lit green stretch next to the Eiffel Tower was only recently built but was already filled with children of nearly all ages. He allowed himself another sigh as he sat down on a park bench.

As he watched the children play, he looked on with contempt; glad that he was not a father or a husband for that matter. He didn't understand how people could enjoy having the little terrors around. One small lad brushed past his legs, nearly knocking him out of his seat. The boy shouted apologetic words behind him as his friends sped past as well. Leon raised his fist and shouted curses at the passing adolescents.

New Year's Day was one of his least favourite holidays. Everyone was celebrating, yet he had to continue his work through the thick of it. Mainly the overbearing crowds only got in his way.

He pulled his leg over the other and sunk his back into the seat. He rugged the overcoat further up his neck and slouched his shoulder forward. For the final touch, he tipped the bowler hat forward, just enough to block the oil lamps lining the park's walkways. He released one last long breath before allowing the noisy world around him to slip away from him.

"Are you, Leon Rossi?" A woman's voice asked.

Startled when as he heard his name, his eyes shot open and he fixed his hat. When he saw the woman standing a few feet from the bench he quickly stood out of respect. "Yes," Leon said, dusting off his pants and then taking his hat off with a polite lift, "that's me."

Leon stopped for a second and looked on with amazement. Now he wasn't 'swooned off his feet', but this woman was extremely beautiful. She had dark hair blue tied up into two pigtails, a few strands falling onto her face as they slowly sway in the wind. She was not completely of French nationality but had the face similar to young Chinese women touring Paris he'd seen around. The ruffles of her crimson red crinoline dress rippling like water in the slight breeze. A heavier black fur-trimmed overcoat hung on her shoulders, the sleeves without arms swayed in the air. The dress was a stark contrast to the deep blue of her eyes, highlighting once again the blue in her hair.

The lady held out her hand from under the jacket, "Marinette Dupain-Cheng is my name."

Leon stood there for a second before snapping out his gaze and planting a small kiss above her hand. He formally introduced himself as Leon Rossi and politely asked her business with him.

"Chemistry; namely the chemicals in the human body, Mr Rossi. I thought I might find my superior officer before I got stuck into work. I am the newest part of your division." She said with formality. She lowered her hand to her purse and pulled out a small silver card. Taking the card, Leon read her name and her position as a 'Pharmaceutical Advisor'.

"Pharmaceutical Advisor?" Leon said looking over the card. "What's that got to do with the Police?"

"Well Chief Inspector Rossi," she plucked the card out of his hand and slid it back into her purse, "the first founder of forensics science was French; A Mr Ambroise Paré was his name if I remember correctly. I investigate how people died, not who killed them."

"Mr Paré, huh."

"But I am fairly sure you could do a far better job than someone like me as a detective." She said innocently.

Leon fingered with his moustache, and smiled slightly at her compliment, "You wouldn't happen to be taking over my job, would you? I find the investigational work of France's streets are quite perplexing and enjoyable."

"I am sure that you do a terrific job." She stated with kindness as she gave a slight curtsy. She straightened and continued, "I hardly could scratch the surface of the investigational work you do with just mere eyes. You won't be losing your job by my hand anytime soon."

He adjusted his hat and puffed out his chest with pride.

"Well when you put it like that…" he mumbled with slight bashfulness.

She then smiled brightly as she pulled her hands together. "I was aware that your task force was on the hunt for the mysterious 'Chat Noir' tonight." She turned her smile into a teasing one. "I would love to see this 'Monster' everyone is rambling about!"

The sudden realisation hit him. She wasn't praising him or flirting with him… she was putting him on a pedestal to lower his defences. He was played like an ace of diamonds.

He quickly dropped the flamboyant attitude and coughed in his fist before continuing. "My apologies, Miss, but I think we head down to the precinct. I am sure there must be some paperwork to fill out upon your arrival." He had to change the subject before she got any further.

"And the 'Chat Noir'?" She said tilting her head downward and raising her eyebrows. "He shall roam the streets while we organise ourselves?" Just as he thought, another hyped up school girl that wants to see danger.

His hand was still outstretched when Leon opened his mouth to explain how his men had it under control. He closed it when he remembered he sent his only group of helpers off to their homes.

"No, Miss. But I am fairly sure we will not find him tonight." He smiled, but behind it, his expression was a firm tone, "And I am also fairly sure we need to…" He offered his hand to escort her.

"All the silly paperwork has been done, Rossi," she said matter-of-factly. She placed her hand on his and lowered it from mid-air, "do you mind awfully if I call you 'Rossi'?" she tilted her head and smiled innocently again, "It has a nice ring to it."

"Um no, Miss." He said slightly turning red.

"Now, keep in mind I came to find you, not the other way round." She walked past the baffled man and strutted towards the large steel tower. He snapped back to attention and jogged to catch up with her. Her walk was brisk but slow, enough for Leon to walk beside her.

"You know, I have barely met you… and yet…" he raised his hand and counted on his fingers, "you've tried to woo me, pass off as the pacifist and made me, of all people, look like a fool… I am beginning to like you." Leon said matter-of-factly

She leant in closer to whisper in his ear, "I found his secret."

"Who's?" he asked.

"Chat Noirs'."  
Leon burst out a short laugh. He had enough of the young lady, but he mused her thoughts.

"I have to say, your investigative skills are beyond my jurisdiction if you have the capability to know anything about this 'Chat Noir'." He pulled his arms up to his chest and folded them over, no longer walking but now strutting.

"I've been working his case for a month and been Chief Inspector for fifteen years..." he boasted. Holding up one finger with a serious tone, he let his opinion fly, "So I hardly doubt that a woman, as beautiful as you may be, could figure at least one detail of this monster without hearing about it from the papers."

"…okay." She cocked her head and looked away, "While you may not believe me… I do have a least one piece of information I found out by myself."

"That being, Miss Marinette?" Leon said sarcastically.

"This 'monster' as you call him, has the capabilities of becoming a monster. Not actually being one." She said looking into the distance.

Leon huffed at the idea, "Have you seen the trouble he has caused on the streets? That freak has put more innocent people in the hospital than the number of criminals I have put behind bars! If that is not a monster that what is?"

For a moment Leon realised something. Though he didn't exactly like people, talking to this one seemed a little easier.

"You misunderstand me. I mean only that he is not a complete monster…" Marinette defended, "only half of one." Leon looked at her with confusion.

She went on to explain herself.

"I have been researching him, ever since he came out of hiding. But he is merely a sheep in wolf's clothing, he is not the monster."

"Are you calling that abomination a man?" Leon coiled back as if she cursed in his face.

"As I said, only half a man and only half a monster. I have done my homework, Rossi and I have reason to believe I know exactly who the man side of this being is."

Leon once again huffed at her preposterous ideas. She continued, annoyed that she was being ignored, "I have gone through countless public records and he has only popped up randomly... But I have a general idea who he is…"

"Well? Stop being so allusive and tell me who this 'man' is already."

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, PEOPLE OF PARIS! MAY I HAVE YOUR ATTENTION, PLEASE?"

Leon slowly turned his head up to face the source of the sound. The Eiffel Tower stood firmly in front of him, and not too far up one of the support legs was a darkened figure, shrouded by fog.

"MANY PEOPLE HAVE WANTED TO SEE A MONSTER! WHY NOT GIVE THEM WHAT THEY WANT, I SAY!" The mysterious figure emerged from the fog and swung on the steel frame of the monument. It leant down and faced the curious crowd growing beneath him. Throwing out his free arm in a showy display he bellowed, "SO I PRESENT TO YOU, CHAT NOIR!"

The man adorned completely in black took off his top hat and threw it into the crowd. The lights behind him made it difficult to make out his face in the darkness, but one defining feature that could be seen was the green glow of his eyes. He straightened and continued his speech, sliding down the metal to land on the concrete foundation.

"I HAVE SOME SPECIAL GUESTS WITH ME…" his voice still booming, he raised his hand and pointed his finger in the direction of Leon and Marinette, "WOULD YOU LIKE TO COME UP TO THE STAGE CHIEF INSPECTOR LEON ROSSI?"

Leon snapped out of his gaze and jumped into action, pulling the bowler hat over his eyes and marching out of the park towards the base of the tower.

"PLEASE LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, GIVE THE INSPECTOR A HAND," the figure mocked as he applauded the man. Leon pushed and shouted at the crowd attempting to reach the base of the tower. All the while, the mysterious figure continued his speech.

The fellow was shouting out accusations at Leon; calling the police cowards, slow and fat, incapable of capturing him. He had drawn a substantial audience towards the tower, making it even harder for the inspector to navigate. It was a stage to him, and quite a perfect stage indeed. As he proclaimed this message of obscenity, he was obviously addressing the public before him. But Marinette noticed something peculiar. Even from the back of the crowd, distant from the tower, she could see his only defining feature, his eyes, stabbing her vision like a dagger. Indeed from afar, he shared an unshakable eye contact with her.

Marinette gazed back at him with amazement, those green eyes pierced not only the darkness but her as a person. And they spelt danger for her. She subconsciously took a step away from the crowd… but the watchful green eyes stayed heavily on her. She looked down and away for a second, seeing the inspector has made his way past the first few rows of people.

Without even noticing Leon's shouts of vulgarity below him, the figure leaps above the heads of the crowd and soars through the night sky.

The shockwave from his landing shook the cobblestones around Marinette. The shaking causing her to fall backwards.

Within the slow seconds, the hands of the black cloaked man gently caught her from her mid-way fall. His grip secured her into his arms, carrying her under the legs and arm. She barely had time to register before she felt the violent jump and the boom that followed afterwards. She clenched her eyes shut as the chill of the air rushed past. The journey was anything but pleasant, but then, everything seemed to slow down to a stop. The slight drop was followed by a 'clang' and a brief wobble for balance. She slowly opened her eyes and saw the dark night above her...

And the familiar green eyes looking directly into hers. She froze in fear. His blond hair billowed in the heavy winds, splashing colour over his face and stressing the green pupils glaring directly into hers. To say the least, he didn't look like the mangled snarl that the papers illustrated.

"Now, now, milady," Chat Noir's lips whispered to her. His voice was rough but soothing, threatening but with some cunning behind it. "Please sit still. For if I were to somehow drop you, it would be quite an interesting journey down…"

She looked behind her and saw what lay below. She saw the bright lights of the Tower, shining brightly as they lit the path leading down the tower to the hundreds of people crowded around its base. Terrified, she clutched her arms around his chest.

He raised his head into the night air and roared out a laugh, still holding on to her from under the arms and legs. The top of the Eiffel Tower was relatively quiet apart from the rushing winds and the monstrous laugh of Chat Noir. They were standing directly on the railing's edge with nothing stopping them from falling if he lost balance.

Though she wanted to scream, to shout and try to get out of his grip; she had no time to panic. She had to take control of the situation before it escalated.

Collecting her thoughts, she calmed her heartbeat and breathed deeply. She reasoned that if he wanted her dead he would have done it already. Taking a few more long breaths she closed her eyes and slowly slipped her arms from around his chest. She rested them on her stomach in a peaceful position and lolled her head back in a relaxed manner. It was taking an extremely big risk, being nearly three hundred meters in the air with nothing to hold onto. It surprised Chat Noir. He stopped his laughing and looked down at her.

"What happened?" he shook her slightly, "did you faint?"

"No…," she said as calmly as possible while clamping her eyes shut, "I am remaining calm."

"…um, stop it." He said gruffly, annoyed at her attitude. "You're not being fun."

She shot open her eyes and furled her eyebrows in anger, "You want me to be fun!? You sick freak!"

"I aim to please," he said smugly as he gently rocked her in his arms.

"You know what," she closed her eyes once again and called his bluff, "toss me over the tower, I've had enough of your games."

"Aww, come one, Marinette. At least give one of us the pleasure of the other's company."

Her eyes shot open and she gasped in shock at Chat Noir. "How did you…"

"You know I have ears like a cat's and can hear many things…" he said raising a brow.

The wind blew harder and he swayed in the wind, the railing too thin for any feet to have a proper grip. Her hand went to his chest to steady herself in the rocking motion.

"Would you mind putting me down?" she gave a glance downward once more, "I would like some more stable ground."

Chat Noir smiled a Cheshire cat grin.

"Why of course, milady." He promptly turned around and deposited Marinette on the tower's platform behind him. Her heels clicked as they met with the metallic floor and she allowed herself a sigh of relief. She dusted off the crinoline dress and buttoned up the fur-lined jacket to her chin.

Chat Noir, on the other hand, stayed on the railing, crouching down to meet with Marinette's eye level.

To Marinette, his face seemed calmer than she anticipated. His lips played a smile that bared his perfectly shaped teeth, his completely normal human ears twitched and his eyes glimmered. But the smile dropped to a more curious expression, his head cocking to one side.

"What do you want with me?" he asked interestedly.

"Whatever do you mean?" Marinette played off honestly. "You were the one who kidnapped me."

"Pfft... I have been following you since yesterday and have learned many things about you," Chat Noir said sliding down from the railing and standing. She only noticed now how large he was. When she saw him from a distance she imagined him at least six foot. But he was at least another head taller than her and his demeanour made his statement all the more intimidating.

"Like what?" She swallowed hard when he took a step towards her.

"Like how you wanted information about me from that reporter, Alya Cesaire," he said taking another step and closing the gap between him and her. "Or like how you lied to Chief Inspector Leon Rossi on how long you have been in Paris for." Slowly backing away, Marinette felt the steel railing behind her.

"You have been a very interesting tale, Miss Marinette," he said taking another step forward, completely shattering her personal space as the distance dropped below thirty centimetres.

She had to look up in order to see his face. Her breath quickened has his hand hovered up her arm. He stopped at her shoulder and rested upon the fur linings.

"You know most of the people that meet me have been absolute idiots," he said softly, "but you are something, completely different to normal people. You're not like normal people… I can smell it on you." He tilted his head down and took a deep breath.

She turned her face away from him.

He exhaled into her hair, looking at her up and down with wide eyes, "You're nothing like normal people…"

"You're me…"

His face spread into a wide, wide grin and he stepped backwards. He made a showy display of bowing slightly and splaying his arms.

"You're" he paused for effect, "a Hyde."


	2. The Meeting

The clack of the wheels across cobblestones and the whinny of the horse are barely noticeable in the Dawn Market's din. The early morning sun shone brightly as the hundreds of pedestrians hubbed around this one area of commerce. A carriage took a turn into the market streets of Paris, the one-way road barely passable with the sheer numbers of people cluttering the way. 1st of January one of the busiest times of the year.

Now that the celebrations were out of the way, everyone was back to work. The bustling narrow street was filled with markets and stores. Each store owner up bright and early for the morning trading hours. Though it was freezing, this was ample time to sell your products. Everyone was waking up and would be awaiting fresh provisions.

A majority of the tourists had returned to the countryside now that the festivities were over. Their holiday not quite yet over but no longer necessary for them to stay in expensive hotels. Now all the remained were the Parisians and the immigrants. They were the ones to fill streets, purchasing their food and needs from the markets and stalls.

The beginning of the New Year offered traders and merchants an opportunity to showcase the furs and rare delicacies of different nations. Flowers that only bloomed in cold weather hold a brilliant radiance in one's florist shop. Two lines of stores lined down the street, a narrow road parting them.

Hailing a driver down, Marinette picked up a slight sag in her red crinoline dress before entering a carriage that stopped. She slipped the driver a few extra coins and told him to travel to the prestigious house of the famous Agreste. The coachman nodded to the young lady and closed the door, then hoisted himself up to the driver's seat. Sitting down in the cushioned interior, Marinette let out a sigh of relief at the comfort. The carriage driver clicked at the horses, starting the journey to the other side of the city.

Marinette adjusted her hair and shook it out lightly. Her hand fell to her lap as she gazed out the window, watching the streets pass by slowly. Last night's events were extremely tiring and she had only gotten four hours of sleep. Marinette felt ready to drop. She still couldn't shake the thought that she now knew the identity of Chat Noir. Not only that; but the very fact that she was about to meet his other half truly terrified her.

The hubbub from the crowds seeped through the heavy curtains of the carriage, advertisement boys shouting out prices of goods and the quality of products. She smiled when the carriage stopped right in the middle of it all; the coachman shouting at the pedestrians to get out the way. Marinette inhaled as a whiff from a nearby bakery store caught her nose. It reminded her of her mother and father when she left them this morning.

She was glad that they were too busy with baking to notice her slip out. Normally Marinette would have to go out and purchase the supplies, like every other Sunday, but this time, she had the barrage of customers to thank for her exeunt. Her parents barely had time to talk to each other with a long queue pouring out their front door, let alone notice their daughter sneak out the back. She was also glad that they didn't notice her come home so late last night. Her father would have killed her if he found out she was with the 'Monster of Paris' until the early hours of the morning.

Chat Noir was quite a hassle when intoxicated.

The coachman clicked at the horse to move as the crowd parted enough room for the carriage to get by. This was the very same route she took last night. And she knew she wouldn't have long until she would be at his doorstep once more.

The carriage slowed and came to a halt in front of the Agreste Mansion…  
The extremely big and daunting mansion, Marinette thought.

…

Knock, Knock, Knock

Adrien peered carefully through the green spectacles at the two delicate object in his hands. He slightly jolted at the knocking, but he managed to stabilise them so no liquid fell out. He sighed heavily. Turning away from the array of chemicals and scientific equipment he called out into the almost empty mansion.  
"Fu, get the door!"  
Satisfied that he won't be disturbed again, he turned his focus back to the fluid in the test tube. He gently poured the clear liquid into a beaker, eyebrows furled as it contacted with the other substance, causing a purple hue to fill the glass container. He gave it a slight swirl and examined it closely.

The knocking continued.

"Fu," he called out lifting his head from his observations, "answer the damn door!" He winced at the sudden movement and regretted speaking so loudly. He rested the beaker down and leant on the table, rubbing his forehead.

Oh, would this hangover ever quit?

When the knocking didn't stop, Adrien resolved that he would have to answer it himself. He pushed the beaker further in the middle of the table and gently slid the test tube down a holding rack.

Walking out into the foyer he passed a mirror and stopped quickly to check his condition.  
Apart from the bags under his eyes, he looked somewhat presentable. A little unshaven, not the best of looks in his opinion, but it would do. He fixed his collar, tucked in his shirt and gave his vest a good tug.

He flicked off the latch and unbolted the door. Swinging it open he squinted slightly at the bright sunlight.  
"Who is making that racket!?"  
Marinette gasped slightly at the sight of Adrien and slapped him across the face.

He recoiled at the impact but shifted his gaze once more on the guest on his doorstep. He didn't even feel the pain of the slap over the headache's throbbing.

"Terribly sorry!" Marinette exclaimed, "Those glasses gave me a fright!"

He peeled the glasses off with one hand as he held the door with the other.  
"Hmm," Adrien said as the hazy green tint was removed from his vision. He pursed his lips as he decided what to do. "Fu!" He turned and called indirectly into the house. "There is a woman on our doorstep! What do I do?"

A Chinese accent called from inside the Mansion, "Invite her in!"  
Adrien looked back to Marinette, carelessly shrugged and stepped aside holding the door open for Marinette. She meekly walked into the house, still embarrassed by the fact that she slapped Adrien Agreste, the renowned scientist, also known as the infamous Chat Noir… to her at least.  
She didn't exactly know why she was here, but it gave her an opportunity to ask some questions.

Fu was coming down the steps when he saw Marinette. "Ah, Miss Marinette! How nice of you to join us once again," he said as he picked up the pace and met her in the middle of the foyer area.  
Fu was quite young, Marinette thought, and quite kind too. He was at least twenty-five she guessed. From the conversation she had with him last night, she found out that he was Adrien Agreste's butler. He had only been in France for six years, but he found his employment under Adrien to be interesting, to say the least. Funny enough, he wasn't all too surprised when she brought the drunken Chat Noir to his door.  
His jet black hair slicked back matched nicely with the black vest and white collar shirt. He had a beaming smile on his face and his hands outstretched for a welcoming hug. He enveloped her in his thin arms politely.

"What brings you here?" he says breaking the hug, his smile never faulting. "Don't tell me another drunk is going to stumble in."

"No," she laughed quietly at his banter. "The reason for my visit is for a conversation with your master," Marinette said growing a little more serious.  
Fu looked behind her shoulder and gave Adrien a quizzical look. Adrien shrugged, opening his arms like he had no idea what was going on. Fu merely gave Marinette an acknowledging nod and smiled further.

"Very well. Allow me to prepare him properly for a decent conversation." He offered.

"Oh please do, Fu," Marinette said. The butler escorted her to the nearest sitting area where she could wait.  
Behind a heavy oak wood door to the west side of the house was a brightly lit study, decorated with comfortable looking upholstered chairs. A large book cabinet lined the wall featuring dozens upon dozens of neatly lined literature. A hardwood desk sat – placed with impeccable precision – in front of the massive arched window. The easterly sun shone downward onto the desk, perfect for early morning work and business meetings.

Marinette noticed how a majority of the windows in the Mansion had glass. This was quite the rarity to find in someone's home; usually, glass filled windows were limited to churches or the Mayor's residence. She took it all in, the wonderful view overlooking the courtyard from an angle, the sunlight lighting up the carpet beneath the chairs and the upholstery matching with the desk and the cabinets.

Fu quietly closed the door behind her, his footsteps fading out as he walked back to the foyer. Marinette politely waited in the study, pouring herself a drink from the small tray of beverages as she waited.  
Taking a sip of her brandy, she peers curiously into glass framed doors of the book shelves. A majority of the literature happen to be newspapers. They were all folded pristinely, tucked away with year and date marked on a piece of paper in their spines.

She heard the heated argument from outside the room and figured it was Adrien. She wasn't exactly what someone would be expecting to see in the early hours of the morning. Especially uninvited. She felt a little better when reminded herself Adrien was the one who invited her… Though he was drunk at the time.

Taking another sip of her drink, she walked along the cabinet towards the back of the room, brushing her free hand over the glass. Looking at each newspaper with its specified year, she found the more she walked towards the back, the newer the article or date.

1850, 1851, 1852, 1853…  
She came across the empty space that would hold the year of 1845. Marinette quietly thought what would happen in these articles. Maybe some grand scientific discovery, or a new find in the archaeological dig around the globe. Or even the capture of the infamous Chat Noir.

Maybe she would be on one of these covers someday.

"Miss Marinette?" Fu said as he poked his head around the door. She looked up from the empty spot and walked back over to the door. Fu took a small bow and ushered his hand out the door. "Master Adrien is ready for your presence."

"Thank you once again, Fu." Marinette smiled and placed her beverage on the table. She followed Fu to the other wing of the house where another lounge had Adrien waiting. Adrien sat by the crackling fire watching it attentively.

Fu turned and quietly left the room, drawing the doors back. He gave Marinette one more smile before disappearing. Marinette turned to face the centre of the room.

Now they were alone.

Adrien hadn't exactly been cleaned up in any way. And he seemed to be even more reluctant to be there. His right leg was tucked up in the corner of the seat and his other stretched lazily out in front of the fire. He was dressed in a smart casual suit with no jacket. The black vest conforming to his torso complimented the white baggy sleeves that covered his arms. He even had those green glasses still on his head.

"I take it you met…" Adrien started, staring into the fire and taking a deep breath before he continued, "him."

"Yes," Marinette said walking across the room and taking a seat opposite him. "You know…" she said crossing one leg over the other, "I have never seen someone down three bottles of wine in ten minutes before."

"Please," he said holding his hand in the air, "spare me the details and get to the point… I already have the hangover." Adrien put his leg down and sat up in the armchair, looking at Marinette with a serious face.

Their meeting commenced.

"You promised me something." Marinette started sitting straight as she addressed him with all due respect.

"Nope," Adrien said to his guest, disregarding respect in any manner. He produced a flask and unscrewed the cap, "I didn't promise you something, he promised you something. This relationship between you and him has nothing to do with me," he said before taking a large swig of the alcohol.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Marinette said.

"I have hypothesised that the monster;" Adrien said leaning back in the chair and smacking his lips from the drink, "the same one that promised you something last night, is part of a chemical reaction found in my brain," he held up the hand with the flask, pointing his index finger at his head as the other fingers held the metal canister firmly. "Hormones inducing a state of relaxation as another less dominate host takes over. I am neither aware of what he is doing or what he was done," he continued waving the flask for emphasis.  
"In other words; your promise means nothing to me," Adrien said shaking his head negatively.

Marinette now only noticed the difference in the two personalities. While Chat Noir and Adrien have the same face, Adrien's voice is not so boisterous and deep. Chat Noirs posture was usually slouching and overhanging, but Adrien's was tall and straight, even though he was sitting back into the chair. Adrien's eyes also seemed to be a duller shade of green.

Marinette refused to give up. "He promised me the secret of Hyde," she said with a stern expression on her face.

"He promised you a what?" Adrien let out a laugh and winced at his ever growing headache. He rubbed his right temple with a knuckle of the hand clutching the flask. "I have to say, this argument is not helping your case."

"Chat Noir didn't think so."

"That's because he is a Hyde, and not a scientist," Adrien said giving Marinette a stern look. "If I could, I would remove him from my body and give him to you. But I can't…"

Marinette's face fell. She came here to get answers. Like what Chat Noir meant when he said she was a Hyde. She didn't expect these eye-opening sarcastic remarks from someone as admired and as respected as Adrien Agreste. She was about to get up and leave when Adrien burst out.

"And believe me! I have spent countless months trying to rid myself of the foul beast," Adrien said throwing his hands out dramatically. "This very morning I was on a break-through on the chemical imbalances found in my brain! But it is always the same story! It is either that idiot that interrupts my work, or it is people like you coming knocking on my door!"

"Why do you talk about Chat Noir in the third person?" Marinette blurted out.

Adrien gave Marinette a somewhat confused and disgusted look. She uncrossed her legs and meekly looked down at the floor, "You don't seem to want to acknowledge him," she said quietly.

Adrien groaned slightly as he stood, pacing around towards a window. He leant on a wall with his back to Marinette and peered out the chilled glass at the passing street. He rubbed his thumb over the cool metal of the flask before continuing.

"… Because I have never met him." He said looking away into the distance.

"What do you mean?"  
Adrien sighed, bringing two fingers to the bridge of his nose, "He and I are two completely different people," with his other hand he swished the flask around explanatorily, still looking out the window. "We merely share the same body."  
"But you may have as figured that out by now."  
"I cannot control his actions when he is the dominating consciousness. Only my subconscious is left for the brief time he is around."  
"But for a majority of the time, I am the host, living daily life without bother. Apart from the occasional unexplained hangover, I don't have any consequences of this affair. I do not bear the guilt or burden of his crimes, therefore I want nothing to do with him." Adrien said taking another drink, then capping the flask and pocketing the metal canister.

"And how shall my promise be fulfilled?" Marinette said.

"As I said, I cannot control his actions. Whenever he is activated, I lose consciousness and he takes full control. If he wants to fulfil this promise of his, he can do so." Adrien said walking away from the window and towards the door. "Don't come to me with your petty issues. Now if you excuse me, I have important work to do." His hand gripped the handle but he stopped before turning it.

"Just out of curiosity…" Adrien said turning to Marinette and leaning back on the door, crossing his arms, "what exactly does this have to do with you?" Adrien said eyeing her over. "Not to be offensive, but you aren't exactly the type I would picture him taking an interest to."

"I don't actually know… You… I mean Chat Noir called me a 'Hyde', then bound down the Eiffel Tower with me in arms. He then took me on a drinking spree and I ended up here handing over your drunken body to Fu." Marinette said sounding useless. Marinette's hand raised up to clutch a small red pendant that hung around her neck. Rolling it between her fingers, her favourite charm always gave her comfort; a small, round glass ladybug with black bumps as spots.

When she looked back at Adrien she noticed he was looking down at the carpet with his hand to his mouth, expressing deep thought. "Do you not remember anything from last night?" She asked.

"No. Not a thing… And I was wondering how you knew Fu so well. But this," he said stroking his chin, "this development is truly remarkable." Adrien said distantly.

His neck snapped up to look directly at Marinette. "Have you ever noticed anything strange in your life?" Adrien paced back towards Marinette. "Dizzy spells? An occasional headache? What is your diet like?"

"What are you talking about?" Marinette said a little frightened.

"Your condition!" Adrien said clapping his hands impatiently as he crouched down. "Please pay attention, your reputation and very being is at stake."  
He crouched low and pulled the glasses down to his eyes, observing her face. She pulled back but he went only closer.

"I have a condition?" Marinette asked worriedly.

"Yes! Good grief you are slow." He said in an almost annoyed tone. He placed his hand on her forehead and pulled back her eyebrow with his thumb. "Sleep, last night, how much?"

"Uhh, um… four hours." Marinette said nervously. "What do you mean I have a condition?"

"That buffoon may be an idiot, but if he says you're a Hyde, then you're a Hyde!" He opened the door and shouted out into the foyer, "Fu get my examination equipment!" He then turned back to Marinette and walked slowly over to her. He crouched again, coming back to her level.

"I have relentlessly been examining my brain. If I could have even a chance at studying you, it would help my research dearly." He placed his hand on hers and lightly squeezed it. "I want to help both of us get out of this situation."

A log turned over and the fire crackled louder, drumming in Marinette's ear. The fire shone a glimmer off the glasses; she saw a flash of Chat Noir those eyes.

Adrien's hand went to her ladybug pendant, gently lifting it in his fingers. "Interesting," he said pausing as he admired it, "it suits you."  
From what she could gather; Chat Noir was Adrien Agreste, whatever is happening to Adrien is also happening to her, and it was only a matter of time before she turned into a Hyde.  
"Very well, do what you wish," she mumbled holding back fear and absolute terror. "I only want to know what will happen to me."

Fu opened the doors and brought in a tray of miscellaneous tools. Adrien turned his attention to the tray and picked out a small phial when it was set down on a nearby table. "I will keep you under observation," Adrien said in a calm, soothing voice.  
"You will have to stay here at my home for a few days." He said opening in the phial and producing a handkerchief from his vest pocket. Holding the phial up to the cloth, he dampened the material.  
"You won't have the much of privacy, as you will be monitored at all times, but it is for your own safety. Here, I want you to smell this, "Adrien said handing the handkerchief to her.

Marinette cautiously took the dampened cloth. This was the famous scientist Adrien Agreste's handkerchief, soiled with a strange and mysterious liquid. Holding it up to her nose lightly, she took a sniff of the material.

"What was in the bottle?" Marinette asked looking down at the cloth in her lap. She began to feel dizzy and disoriented.  
Adrien looked back at Fu and gave a sharp nod. "Namely; several anaesthetics, some white wine and a concoction of my own creation."  
Fu went around the room closing all the shutters and doors, locking each of them with a large metal key. Each time the bolt slid into place, Marinette's concern grew. The room grew darker as the heavy wooden doors folded in, covering the window's light.

Adrien coughed to draw her attention back to him. Her head felt heavy, her muscles barely able to hold it up to make his eye contact. "I need to talk to someone, someone very important in this matter. But I will see you soon." His face was slowly becoming illuminated by the fire. Marinette struggled to keep her eyes open, but the exhaustion overtook her and she fell limp in the chair.  
"The room has been Hyde-proofed," Fu said returning to Adrien. "Shall I leave you two?"  
"Yes, Fu. Please leave."  
Fu left, drawing the last bolt against the door and locking it in. Adrien slowly took the seat opposite Marinette and waited patiently.  
He began to notice her eye's fluttering when he was pulling out his flask from his vest. He gently lowered the flask down to a side table. As soon as the metal touched the wood, the eyes flashed open, looking directly at him with a mixture of fear, anger and confusion.

And the meeting commenced.


	3. Papillon's doings

"Incompetent!" Papillon roared, pounding a gloved fist on the table.

A small bottle of ink toppled over and spilt its contents across the wooden surface. The audience of seated policemen remained dead silent as their Commissaire Divisionnaire's voice made the silence hang in the air. Even though they were forced to sit and hear the complaint of their superior, it was not they who were taking the blame.

The man on the wrong end of the lecture was Leon Rossi, Chief of Police and Capitaine of Paris. His orange moustache bristled with cringe as the black ooze of the capsized ink-pot seeped its way through his morning reports. Each second, the ink spoiled the pages of work he spent hours of the night completing.

His one opportunity to capture the infamous 'Chat Noir' had not only failed less than majestically, it had also turned to the worst when the girl he put in his protection, was kidnapped. And by 'Chat Noir', to make matters all the more interesting. Leon tried to keep a stiff upper lip; controlling his anger to squeeze his fists rather than throw them.

Papillon was the type of man everyone feared; he was respected, but mostly feared. Even his appearance made solid men tremble. His face was obscured almost completely with a thin layer of darkly coloured porcelain, thin cracks from goodness know what. The faceplate covered the top right side of his forehead to the bottom of his cheek. It made his facial expressions very muted. But one trait he was known for the deathly stare of his last functioning eye, along with his brilliant intellect when it comes to solving problems. In this case; Inspector Rossi was the problem. And Papillon's eye was firmly fixed on him.

Leon told himself to bear through the ridicule for the morale of his staff. He was not at fault in his eyes but someone had to take the blame for Chat Noir's escape.

The respect that he will gain when capturing the cloaked figure will be glorious to rub in Papillon's face. He allowed the verbal beating to rain down upon him, taking it all in as the men that respected him sat behind and watched. Papillon was not usually brutal with the dishing out of punishments, but this time he seemed to be on Leon's breaking point. What's more, Leon and Papillon were the only men standing in the room at the time, so everyone's eyes were focused on them solely. Not one single word would be missed.

Once Papillon had finished, he brushed back a strand of hair that fell past his remaining eye and composed himself. His stare remained undeterred, glaring right into Leon as he leant in towards over the table. Resting his gloved knuckles on the wood, Papillon lowered his voice to a whisper.

"Do what you must Inspector to get this Chat Noir. You have my permission to use any measures necessary." He spoke in a manner that provoked something fearfully serious in Leon's stomach.

Amongst the fear, Leon felt something change within him, something he usually kept hidden within his deepest emotions. It was a mixture of anger, indignation, and strangely; anxiety and distress.

Papillon shot back and growled in a low rumble to the rest of the men in the room.

"I believe I have made myself clear as to the absolute laziness and hopeless work ethic that I would find in this precinct! I don't even know how you people capture any criminals with this sad excuse for police work. Get back to work!" With that, he turned heel and left the room leaving his staff to pick their dignity off the floor.

Leon's shaking hand reached up to his badge, his grip around the metal felt like an electric shock passed through his body. He almost felt the rage pouring through his fingers, flushing his face, coursing through his veins. He quietly pledged himself, 'To rid this world of Chat Noir, to clean the streets and the alleys of the filth that dirtied his boots'. Now that he had the full backing of Papillon, he felt that he could do anything.

When he looked up from the desk, the world seemed different; crisper and his senses felt much more alive than ever before. He looked down again, his hands gripped the badge that hung around his neck were shaking. His breath grew heavy, and the words of Papillon echoed in his head.

"Get Chat Noir."

The men behind him started to dissipate, shuffling back to their desks, still a little affected by the meeting. Leon gave a sneer of disgust at the morale of his men. They couldn't even find a murderer if they walked up to the precinct and knocked on the door. He hated them.

Unfortunately, what Leon needed was a task force. He couldn't catch Chat Noir alone, but he didn't want to use any of these idiots. He needed a task force that wouldn't bumble around and make excuses to get out of work. Leon's eyes widened as he spied out two of the youngest policemen, by far the fittest and the strongest of his staff. Approaching them, he took each one by the arm and proposed his idea.

"Gentlemen, I have an assignment for you. As your commander, I order you to do exactly as I tell you, failure is not tolerated. And, if you succeed, there will be a few more Francs that happen to fall into your pay."

The two fell into an extremely interested trace once Leon mentioned money. Little persuasion was needed when finding thugs that would help him. Now he had his task force. And he had his target. Leon knew that going off the record and doing something he shouldn't, would most definitely cause his name to be ruined in the police force.

Chat Noir's capture and the respect he would gain would be worth it and more. He had to do this. He felt bound by the laws of humanity to exterminate the cloaked figure. He reminded himself he needed to thank Papillon after this.

It was almost if all he needed was the one sentence from Papillon. "Get Chat Noir."

That made him feel like a real Commandant.

...ooo000ooo...

"We have to get at least a photograph of Chat Noir!" Alya Cesaire shouted up past her desk. She picked up her glasses off the floor and stood back up, wiping them with a handkerchief. "I don't care if you have to ask him politely or whack him over the head to take it! Just get me that photograph!"

"Yes, Miss Cesaire!" an underling said turning heel and dashing out the door of her office.

"And make sure it is not blurry!" she called out after him. Alya gave a small huff and brushed off the dust on her dress. Her office was not the tidiest, she had to admit. Snatching today's newspaper from her cluttered desk, she flicked it open and poured her eyes of the content. The main heading depicting the horrid and grotesque sewers that Chat Noir was rumoured to live during the day.

She hated to print biased information about someone, but Chat Noir was technically not even considered human so it seemed fine.

"Where are my sources!" Alya threw the paper on the chair and pulled her deep orange coloured shawl off a coat rack on the wall. Shuffling the cloth over her shoulders she grabbed her notebook and pencil. "Rose! Cancel that meeting with the Mayor, I have things to attend to!"

A smaller woman in a dark pink dress and yellow blond hair popped her head around the corner of the door. She carried a tall stack of manila folders that reached up to her chin. "But Madam! It is the Mayor! You asked him for the meeting."

"I do not really care for that man, Rose; I didn't get in this position by boot licking," Alya said pulling the notebook open and sliding her pencil in a free page. "Cancel the meeting; tell the old fool that I… am running an important story on the illegal mysterious goings-on in the French Parliament."

Rose's bright blue eyes grew in deep concern, "Is that true Miss Alya?"

"I sure hope not," she said giving a short laugh and flicking a strand of her brown hair out of the way, "but I will guarantee he will buy it, or at least get worried enough to get off my back for a few days."

She gave Rose a small pat on the head and pulled the door closed behind her. "Mind the office and get the printers to work during the night. Telling the news about Chat Noir is our top priority." Alya turned the key and locked the door with a 'click'. "Also make sure to inform Nathaniel; 'Make Chat Noir's illustrations look less violent'. Yesterday's paper gave me nightmares."

"But Madam! Where are you going?" Rose asked as she dropped the folders on her own desk, situated almost directly in front of Miss Cesaire's office.

"I am going to the Eiffel Tower Markets; I heard from my good friend that there will be a massive crater in the garden! This story keeps getting better and better! Rose, keep working hard, little woman," Alya said, once again patting the head of her assistant. Alya turned heel and walked through the bustling crowds of the editorial for the 'Le Père Duchesne'. Rose followed her down the stairs and past the foyer.

The entire building had been dedicated to the media after the French Revolution. The dozens of windows on looked the cobblestone courtyard. Heels clicked one after another in echo, the creak of the heavy iron barred door being pushed open. The one woman who had a great hand in putting together the organisation was Alya Cesaire, her pride and joy of France.

Not only was she the founder of the organisation, but she was one of the many editors, a reporter and a profound enthusiast in uncovering the truth behind the French Revolution. Usually, women in this society were not accepted as more than maids in the respectable workforce.

The Cesaire family, however, had some influence in the high society or Paris and was appointed their beloved daughter as head of the Multimedia Institution for the paper 'Le Père Duchesne'. Alya gave a bright and cheery smile as she pulled the iron gate of the Editorial closed.

One rival paper commented; "Madam Reporter Alya Cesaire is by far, one of the most influential and prominent women in the workforce. With no doubt, we at the 'Gazette de France' truly fear what may become of Lady Cesaire in her future career."

Hitching her dress up ever so slightly, she managed to call herself a cabbie to pull over. One thing Alya Cesaire is particularly infamous for is the complete disregard of all feministic characteristics of a respectable woman in France. That was a particular factor in her rise to management in the media. This trait was clearly evident by the scene she caused with the driver about the lack of shine on the horses.

And exasperated breath escaped Rose, her head cocking to the side and her eyes closing tiredly. "How was I the one to be picked for this job?"

...ooo000ooo...

Adrien had very, very little experience with women. Ever since he was a little boy he had a limited social interaction with anyone really. His mother died and his father was promoted to Commissaire Divisionnaire for Paris just around the same time. So being almost orphaned for the majority of his youth made making friends and having social interaction quite difficult. Let alone being able to talk to girls.

The dress, torn off like it was wax paper was tossed aside. "How can you humans stand all this clothing?" she exclaimed as she reached down and pulled the leather boots off.

"It's like you people have an infatuation with a number of layers you put on," she said as the footwear flew across the room.

"Who needs all of this?" Her petticoats ripped to shreds of fabric.

Adrien, on the other hand, was positively catatonic.

Shock and embarrassment overcame him. Respectable gentleman did not look at disrobing women, so he kept his eyes trained on the roof.

'Is this the Hyde?' He thought to himself, biting his lip. 'Judging by her actions, what was left of this woman is hardly recognisable. Just like what happens to me…'

Knowing fully well that he was now locked in a room with a half-dressed woman; he tried his best to maintain a focus on the immediate task at hand. Making sure to keep his eyes locked on the ceiling's red oak wood panelling, he ordered her to stop.

"Put some clothes on woman! And stop this misconduct, immediately!" His lip trembling slightly as he tried to maintain a masculine manner.

But she didn't reply, nor did she recognise he was speaking to her.

Instead, from the corner of his eye, he noticed her throwing the torn red crinoline dress directly into the flames, destroying it completely. His posture stiffened and his finger unconsciously pulled at his collar. Even though it was freezing outside, it seemed to be extremely hot in the room.

He coughed into his fist, which made matters worse. Never had he felt so uncomfortable in his life. Finally mustering enough courage, and by going against everything he had been taught as a gentleman… he glanced down.

To say the least, he would have a bloody nose by the end of all of this.

It was then he saw steam rising from the skin of his visitor. Also, the sweat beading on her brow, even though the temperature was well below into the negatives. Her fringe had come loose and was hanging in front of her face. Her breath was heavy, panting even, and sweat dripped from almost every pore.

When the thought hit him, he remembered. He remembered how every morning after a Hyde incident he would wake in bed sheets soaked in his sweat. His hand went to his chin.

He had merely assumed that the night crawler 'Chat Noir' had merely over exerted himself every time he went out. Worked up so much perspiration to cause such a mess. But now he saw that the transformation was what caused the excess amount of sweltering.

This was something that he did not notice before. That meant that there must be some sort of chemical reaction happening within the transformation itself.

'Non-External,' he pondered to himself, 'Purely Internal.'

He had a theory that there always some sort of stimulus that would invoke the 'birth' of the Hyde; a chemical of sorts. Like what he administered to the girl to draw out the Hyde. But now he questioned his theories. What if instead… it wasn't an activating agent he gave her, but rather, a sedative?

'The human is not the Host…' the thought clicked in his mind.

'The transformation is not a transformation at all…' his theories continued to dissipate as he continued contemplating.

'The humans are the anomaly,' was his conclusion, 'everyone is…'

"A Hyde…" he muttered under his breath.

Now remembering he was blatantly staring at the disrobing woman, he made haste to quickly turn away. He silently smacked himself for gawking.

Once she had finally tossed the last petticoat into the flames, she turned and groaned. She was wearing very little, dressed only in drawers, an untied corset, and a short sleeved white shirt. Attempting a professional tone, he brought together his palms and took a deep breath.

She flopped backwards loosely in the armchair, "There we go," her voice rumbled as she grew comfortable in the cushions, throwing a leg over the armrest, "now it feels like I can breathe normally."

Adrien gave a small cough.

It was only then, did she at look at him directly. "You're a Hyde aren't you?" she said like it was completely apparent. If it were humanly possible, Adrien's head turned so fast it would have dislocated if he hadn't stopped to look directly at her.

She burst out laughing when she saw his expression was of amazement and awe.

"I beg your pardon?" his voice expressing concern.

"Twenty-three years, little man," she said wagging her fingers in a two and three fashion, "I have spent, trapped in this forsaken body, with no means of contact with the outside world because this stupid girl has never had an exciting experience in her entire lifetime. Oh, and I know one of my own kind when I see one."

"Well then… shall I make you more comfortable?" Adrien said lifting himself out of the armchair. "I'll fetch my servant to bring us some beverages."

On his way to the door, he made a few mental notes.

Her demeanour had changed completely. The shy girl that walked into my home not ten minutes ago was humbled, sounded like she was an adolescent. Not this woman at all.

She spoke in a manner that conveyed she was sarcastic, narcissistic and overall a complete ruffian. Her posture complimented her lack of care and even her hair looked like it was rebelling against the girl's sense of style. Her arms coated in sweat was not a pretty image either.

Why do Hyde's always have to be like this?

He glanced back at her once he reached the bolted door.

She was looking down her shirt and complaining. "How did she not grow anything in those twenty-three years?"  
Her hand patting down her chest, "I was expecting a little more muscle and at least a little bit more of a bump than these."

Patience, Agreste, patience is key…

Adrien rapped on the wood in a peculiar fashion, syncopating his knocking. After three seconds of silence, the definite sound of a bolt being drawn and the jingle of keys was heard. Three consecutive clicks told Adrien that the door was now unlocked and the heavy wooden passage opened slightly ajar. A metal rod poked in front of Adrien's face.

"Put the musket down Fu," Adrien said lowering the thin barrel that protruded the door gap with his hand, "we require beverages, brings us some tea..."

"Come on now! Alcohol is what I want!" she yelled as she rose from her seat. She turned and perched her knees on the armchair, using the high backing as a rest for her crossed arms. "None of this 'tea' business! I know she already had a drink, I taste the sweet spice of a brandy on my lips!"

Adrien gave her a deathly glare. He had only heard stories of Hydes, but one thing he understood clearly was their unquenchable thirst for liquor.

He brought his fingers to the bridge of his nose in exhaustion, waving the other dismissively at Fu. "I hate to say this, but bring in a bottle of Brandy for Miss…" Adrien hesitated, his eyebrows furrowing in realisation.

"What is your name?" he asked her. Even Fu turned to look at her in anticipation.

"Hmm," she muttered, "yes indeed, that is a perplexing question."

"You may call me…" she said looking around the room tutting. Her eyes fell on the necklace around her throat, (one of the only items she didn't rip off).

"Ladybug."

She smiled softly as she lifted the pendant and let it dangle between her fingertips. She leant on the back of the chair, her eyes fixated on the spinning charm. Adrien gave a sigh. He now wondered if his counterpart had named himself off a whim as well…

"I do suppose that I should show respect to you," she said suddenly dropping the charm and crossing her arms again, burying her chin in her elbow. "You appear to be more… sane than myself," she mumbled into her arm.

"That's an understatement," Adrien uttered, adopting a sarcastic tone. He looked back at Fu and gave a waved him off, "Forget the drinks, Fu. Also, I don't think the door needs to be locked anymore."

"I want the drinks now!" Ladybug pleaded.

"You're practically already acting drunk anyway!" Adrien bellowed from the door. He grasped the frame of the door and slammed it, leaving Fu on the other side.

A still silence hung between them, both essentially filled with distaste for each other. Ladybug had taken to look away disappointedly while Adrien fixed his vest with a violent tug.

"So what do you want to do to me?" She leant over the chair and rested her chin on her palm, "I know how your significant other likes to terrorise people, so what do you want to do?"

"We have to get you some clothes," Adrien said rubbing his forehead and walking towards her seat. "We'll have the drinks when we get back."

"Get back from where?" Ladybug asked looking up at him.

"We are going to the markets," Adrien replied, "pardon the pun, but I know of a tailor that will suit your needs. So do come quietly."

He grabbed the nape of her neck and slowly lifted her off the chair. She was almost as light as a doll to him. He wasn't choking her, and he knew he wasn't hurting her, but the position did inflict dominance over her position. He cleared his throat.

"Need I remind you, I have Chat Noir's infamous strength and my own intellect for you to worry about…" he said coldly, holding to eye level and staring at her.

She gave him a devious smile and shrugged, "I am at your mercy Mr Agreste."

Adrien let her drop, and as he suspected she had no trouble landing on her feet. He started walking back towards the door, "Now, allow me to make arrangements for a carriage and some disguise for yourself. But do follow closely."

Rubbing her neck, she huffed. But she followed him.

Now outside the Hyde-proof room, she was amazed to see how big the house was. "How rich are you exactly?" was her first question as she gawked at the massive chandelier hanging above her head. The entire foyer was marble, from the steps to the pillars that held the walls.

"My father is a prestigious man…" Adrien said he rang a bell cord beside them. "Alas, he doesn't know of my identity, living here is quite difficult."

Fu stepped out from the other side of the foyer, drink tray in hand. "Yes, Master Adrien?"

"My associate and I will be going out," Adrien said pulling a hooded coat off the rack and tossing it on Ladybug, "ensure drinks will be waiting upon our arrival."

"Very well, Sir."

Slipping the fabric over her head, ladybug adjusted the buttons and clipped together the collar. Soon her entire body was covered from head to toe, shrouded in the material's shadow. The coat was heavy and the hood shielded her face from prying eyes.

"Well Mr Agreste," she quipped, "shall we go take a stroll?"

"Aye," he sighed. Grabbing the handle, he pushed down and out on the door. "Let's go."


	4. Criminal Fabric Couturiers

From its face, the small shop looked like any other. A small, under furbished, drab looking building of two stories and no windows on the ground floor. The storefront was only one distressed white wall and a doorway that was falling into disrepair. The entire structure wasn't appealing to the eye at all, especially since all the buildings around it were completely new. The overhaul of Paris caused a good majority of the suburbs to be destroyed and rebuilt from the ground up; one building out of place soon became unnoticeable in the construction.

Location wise, it was horrendous, and the noise from neighbouring houses was sometimes unbearable. Tenants that moved in during construction were loud and torturous; especially after last night's festival commemorating the new year. Little did they remember the small tailor shop… right next door.

Situated far from the main streets and in the deepest alleyways, the doorway was shrouded in dark shadows of taller buildings around it. The shop looked like it was built decades before the Revolution, and smelt like wood savings.

In cursive writing, the words 'Kwami Tailors' read in faded black on weathered wood. The same design and wording complimented a hanging sign; it swung in the gentle breeze as the draft from the main street came through the narrow gaps between buildings. The sign creaked and moaned in the wind when the chains rubbed against the wavy iron cast support rod protruding out above the alley.

Unlike the other stores and shops, this two-story building was happily owned by Paris' least known tailors. They were so unknown to the public, that they barely got any business. But it had its perks. Were they even obligated to pay taxes? Nobody knew. They had made themselves so discreet, these two were completely off society's fashion listings. Almost no one knew of this shop.

Yet, despite this, the two owners took provisions to ensure the customer's satisfaction - whenever they have a customer that is. Going above and beyond the standard marketing, but adhering to traditional techniques of production while incorporating their own tastes in the mix. You could even say they were the black market in fabrics. Larger businesses rarely cared for the personalities of their workers, nor their own tastes. But if anyone ever stumbled upon this place, they would be able to find what they were looking for and leave without a doubt.

Textiles from across the world would eventually end up in Kwami Tailors, usually illegally or accidentally. The owners themselves were wanted for theft and suspected fraudulent activities, crimes punishable by death, no less. Hitherto, they continued with their business and minded little of the outside world.

Winter was upon reaching its climax, so heavy clothes were in high demand, even for Paris' most inconspicuous duo. Frequently, the poor came to them, seeking the right material to stay alive and for a reasonable price. And they have no trouble finding what they need.

Inside, and far from the eyes of Parisians, the two tailors started their day.

The snow that fell on the night previous built up the roof top and chilled everything inside. Fortunately, it was only on the roof that the snow fell. Surrounding buildings took the brunt of the cold; so now only some of the freezing climate hit the Kwami Tailor's store.

Plagg pulled the rough sackcloth off his workstation and swept his hand across its surface. Early morning chill was already set in; the table was now a cold slab of marble under his fingertips. He patted his hand against the cool surface, clicking his metal ring; his habit of commencing work. He bent down to lift pull up a large cylindrical drum of fabric rolls from under the table. While he was under there he noticed something across the room that caught his eye.

"Tikki," he said lifting the tub onto the counter, the weight making a thud that echoed through the room, "the dress hanging there is new." His skinny finger pointed at the unfinished outfit on his partner's rack.

The dress was fitted for a woman of an hourglass figure. Small black polka dots perfectly symmetrised on the ruffles as the fabric stretched down the ground. The arms featured puffed sleeves and transparent red lace stopping at the wrists.

Tikki clasped her hands together mischievously. She slid around the corner of her table and gently lifted the dress off a hook.

"You like it Plagg?" She held the waist back and span around, her short red hair slightly swaying. Obviously, she was showing it off for the countless hours she spent hand stitching the ruffles. "I think the colours go well with the designs and the material."

Plagg squinted down at her work with disinterest. He was 6'4'' and of a thin build; set jaw and black spiky hair that patted down over his forehead; though a few locks defied gravity and stood upward. If you were to see him in the park – which you would not – you best pay attention to avoid the dark shadow that he casts.

"You should have used a heavier material for the lining," he said eyeing off the fabric and rolling the lace between his fingers. "Winter is not like last year and it would serve no purpose. I would say it has earned its place in the summer collection, but not Plagg approved." He walked next to her, stopped, and gently patted her head, a smirk forming on his face.

Tikki was 5'2'' and without a doubt plumper than Plagg. Her red hair was cut in a bob and styled that it curled down to her neckline. One trait about her was the cheery disposition that she practically emits from her face; it is so captivating that you are caught you off guard when she gets angry.

She smiled stressfully when Plagg patted not only once, but three times with excruciating deliberateness. It was if each pat on her head pushed her ego further into the floor. She folded the dress over and slid it in her table's draws while maintaining a stationary expression. Her closed eyes suppressed the murderous rage she felt for Plagg she held within her face. "Not like you could do any better, darling," she muttered under her breath while turning around to face him; cracking her knuckles in her fists.

Running an entire clothing shop, as difficult as it is, was interesting. These two misfits made the store become alive with a sense of an invisible community. They got along with their customers… but not with each other. 'They are complete opposites'; the few customers would comment. Tall and thin, small and heavy. A dark shadow and a beam of light. Even their design tastes were at each other's throats. No one really knew their names. They are always referred to as 'Plagg' and 'Tikki'.

And to conclude, the business wasn't dead in the water and they hadn't killed each other, so all seemed well for the Kwami Tailors.

"So explain to me why you just justified their entire backstory?" Ladybug asked Adrien from under her hood, she crossed arms while listening to Adrien drone on. A loud noise made her jump. Inside the tailor's building, she heard various things; like shouting, furniture being rearranged, and the occasional violent retort. It made her quite worried.

What had she missed in those twenty years of silence?

She wrapped the long cloak around herself and hugged her arms together, "And make your answer quickly, it's cold in this alley."

"Keep your dress on," Adrien chuckled – mainly at his own joke. He coughed and turned away when Ladybug looked at him dejectedly. He stepped up against the door's alcove and rapped on the wood. The noises from inside came to a halt and the quick patter of steps on a wood floor came towards them. Adrien backed off the doorstep and stood beside Ladybug.

Adrien and Ladybug were welcomed by Tikki's beaming face as she stood in the doorway. "Why Adrien, it is lovely to see you brought company. Come in," she beckoned them in and shifted aside, "come in."

Adrien stepped over the threshold and into the store without hesitation, tugging Ladybug along by the hand.  
Inside the store was small; it featured four walls completely covered in fabrics from around the globe. Some even hung from the ceiling, coming just above eye level. There was only one other door and that was the stairway to the floor above. There were the two tables of marble slab and their respective seamstress machining equipment stood behind them.

Plagg was cradling a bruised arm from behind his desk. Adrien passed it off when he shook his hand politely. The injury was most likely caused by the argument they heard before entering, so he made little attention to it. Tikki had come round and joined Plagg in front of their guests and offered a beverage or a light meal. Adrien politely declined and began talking; mainly about himself. Their cheery smiles told no story of the fight they just had, and they listened intently.

Ladybug quietly hid behind Adrien when he talked to the two store owners. She even opted to slide her hand up onto his arm while he lost himself in conversation. He didn't even seem to notice the woman hanging off his arm. She was nervous. Extremely nervous. The room was new to her, new smells of fresh cotton, oil from the sewing machine, cast iron steam press; all frightened her a little. It had been twenty years since she came out of hiding; new things were on the agenda, but not this fast paced. Way too face paced for someone who literally woke up an hour ago.

"Now, do I have the story to tell you, my friends, one that will surely astound you!" Adrien exclaimed. Plagg and Tikki both cocked their head to look around Adrien, obviously looking at woman hiding behind him. He sighed and finally introduced her, "But first," he said unenthusiastically, stepping behind and pushing the small of her back forward, "I am shocked to say this young lady and I are now partners. Meet… Miss Ladybug."

Tikki and Plagg looked at each other in disbelief.

When talking to others, one must be very careful in the words they choose. Such words could mean something extremely significant if taken in the wrong context. Like what had just happened. So, upon hearing these words from Adrien, a small instantaneous conversation happened between Tikki and Plagg. Their slight movements and facial gestures told a silent conversation that only they could understand.

"Adrien is getting married?" Tikki's eye widen practically shouted at Plagg, "I thought he was a Batchelor!"

"Search me, Tikki!" Plagg's blinking rationalised, "You had him over for tea that one time, did he tell you anything then?"

"Nothing of the sort," her slight head shake illustrated. "You're the man of this house," she emphasised with a small glare, "congratulate him!"

Plagg cleared his throat and turned back to Adrien and his companion. He took his time in finding the right words, so as to not put them in the spotlight, but he managed to spill out the few simple words that everyone has heard before; "So… when do we hear the wedding bells?"

And the awkward silence hung like the many fabrics from the ceiling. Ladybug and Tikki had realised this and had decided to remain quiet, waiting for Adrien's reply to Plagg's remark.

Adrien expression went from cheery to extremely perplexed. What a peculiar question. 'Wedding Bells?' Why would wedding bells have relevance with Ladybug's and my partn…

...

It was then he looked down at ladybug. And it was then he realised what Plagg meant. He took a quick assessment of the situation. Ladybug, the strange girl he brought along with him was clinging to his arm… and he just stated the impossible and called themselves partners.

Now, as previously mentioned, words can be mischievous. 'Partners' could have various meanings; whether it be a romantic relationship where both parties have agreed to become wife and husband to each other, or simply meaning two people have agreed on a mutual understanding to work together in the same room. But Plagg, and now Tikki, have the completely wrong idea.

Adrien meant the work related one. Not the romantic one. Categorically and indisputably not the romantic one.

He raised a finger and opened his mouth to clarify what he meant; how he merely came here to talk and fetch new clothes for his assistant. The girl was a Hyde; a walking science experiment; not his fiancé. Their understanding was horrific. Something that needed to be remedied before it got out of hand.

He sighed – probably his twelfth one for today – and left the comment without an answer.

"We require clothing for the young lady," Adrien declared suddenly, giving Plagg a displeasing stare. He then turned to Tikki and resumed his previous cheery attitude, "Are you in possession of a dress that will fit her? We are in somewhat of a hurry and require it immediately."

Tikki quickly rushed to Ladybug's side with her usual bright smile, "Most certainly Mr Agreste. May I take her for measurements and a fitting?"

After a dismissive nod from the tall blond, Tikki gently guided the woman off his arm and towards her desk on the other side of the room. Ladybug staggered onto a small elevated platform and was stripped of her cloak, ready for a fitting of a dress. Tikki pulled a red and black dress out from inside a drawer and started to measure the appropriate sizing. Plagg and Adrien competed in a small glare-off.

"What do you plan to do now," Plagg said smirking, "Monsieur Chat Noir?"

Adrien stiffened a little; he hated being called that. He crossed his arms nonchalantly, "Either break your legs…" he said with a smile across his face, entertaining the idea in his imagination, then he dropped to a serious face as he continued, "or Papillon's."

The atmosphere between them changed to a life-threatening one. Plagg's eyes widened and his ears perked. He lowered his voice to a whisper, "You found another?"  
He was quickly silenced by Adrien's hand across his mouth. The blond turned his head to look back at the door and made a quick evaluation. No one was near or around the alleyway to hear their conversation. He looked Plagg dead in the eyes and slowly removed his hand.

"Well," Plagg asked, "where are they?"

"She is getting her dress fitted as we speak," Adrien affirmed, nodding to the back of the room.  
Plagg glancing back at the two women with squinting eyes, wincing in discomfort. "Ah, so that's what you meant by partners… Is she in danger?" Plagg asked, turning back to Adrien. He subconsciously started clicking his ring against his table.

"Extremely so…."

"He can't be that powerful… can he?" He looked back the women once more, "You really think he can find her?"

Adrien placed a hand on Plagg shoulder, "Plagg, I fear he has already sent out one of his assailants to obtain us. No location is safe anymore."

"It will only be a matter of time before he finds you," Plagg validated with a nod.

"We'll take him, head on," Adrien said gripping the tailor's shoulder with emphasis. He lowered his voice still and stated regretfully, "I will allow the brute to take the lead if necessary…"

"Wow, the situation is that serious, you say…" he stroked his chin thoughtfully. "What can I do to help?"

"I need you to do a favour for me, and Plagg, it might mean life or death."


	5. Viennoises au Chocolat

The queue into the café was long and tedious, Adrien having to shield the small naive woman from various pickpockets and other dangers. Now that they had finally reached the service counter they could get the food Adrien had yearned for all morning. "Two please," Ladybug chimed over the counter top. The friendly Patisserie owner smiled as he opened a fresh paper bag for the new order.

The cafés alongside the street were in high demand and drew many customers towards the sweet-smelling tea and the rough bitter aroma of coffee beans. A roasting fire from the back of the small restaurant enveloped the open space with a touching warmth, inviting even more into the long line of patrons to escape the chill. Rows and rows of baked bread lined the back of the front counter and the fresh smell of its crust sent chills down Ladybug's spine after every breath. Twenty Centime coins later, the devious duo walked out with their lunch in hand.

Adrien had to pay for the food of course. Just as he had to do for the dress, the cabbie fare, the new shoes, and every other thing Ladybug would logically demand. He hadn't even made it to midday without losing fifteen francs to this woman. He usually spent that in a week on chemistry supplies and Fu's house care services.

They walked outside the busy café and took up a place to eat. Adrien quickly pulled up two metal chairs and nonchalantly invited Ladybug to sit down at a small street-side table, the atmosphere calm and relaxed. He sat her down, like the gentlemen he is, then came around the other side of the table, flicked his coat out and sat down.

The ambient noise of people seemed to slip away in their small bubble around the table. They looked inconspicuous and felt so; acting ordinary in the middle of a courtyard was working like a charm. Papillon's lackeys could appear at any time and a populated area was the best bet for hiding.

Adrien reached into the paper bag and handed over the pastry, Viennoises au Chocolat, over to Ladybug. It was covered in thin layer of honey, the inside filled with small melted flecks of chocolate and an abundance of cream. She took the sweet-smelling delight in hand and thanked Adrien.

Without hesitation, Adrien pulled out his own pastry and immediately tore into the bun, devouring it within seconds. He hadn't had his morning meal yet, and the only thing in his stomach was the distasteful alcohol from last night. He plucked his fingers between his lips, removing the last of the chocolate and the pastry from existence, and letting out a hum of contentment.

"You seem hungry…" Ladybug remarked after nibbling into her meal, "I thought you are nursing a hangover."

"Yes, but someone had to interrupt my routine and now I am famished," Adrien replied with a fake smile; the sugar felt good on his lips but it didn't replace his lack of enthusiasm. "I was going to buy more, but I don't have any money left, thanks to someone…" he stated, even pulling out and shaking his leather wallet to prove his remark. She snickered amusingly before returning to the chocolate bun.

Adrien sat back and rubbed his eyelids, first it was his Hyde issue then the stress of work, then his father, but now Ladybug was a new hassle altogether. How long was he to persist to be her caretaker before she would be satisfied? She is like an empty child with no sense of self-control.

He looked upward into the clouds overhead, the sky a beautiful hue of blue. The cold air breezed through the plaza, crisp and harsh against dry skin. The day felt almost perfect. He lowered his gaze into the distance, at the white and blue painting forming and the winds brushing the trees. One usually didn't have time to notice things out the window when working oneself to the bone.

He slowly turned his attention back to earth, and, to the girl. An arduous woman, strong in mind and strong in spirit. Her body was covered neatly with the red and black dress that Tikki had made. Her face was hidden by the cloak he gave her, but he knew under all the cloth hid a beast. A Hyde.

Adrien wasn't pleased with this turn of events, but he wasn't unhappy either. Apart from Fu, his Father, and the Kwami Tailors, this girl was the only social interaction he had for a while. And she's a Hyde to top it all off.

He wasn't too sure if that was a good or a bad thing just yet.

He might as well try to find out.

Adrien prepped himself and initiated the conversation once again. "Stop eating, please, I wish to ask you some questions," he kindly asked her in a formal and proper manner.  
After giving him a look of surprise, she stopped, placed the pastry down onto the paper bag and wiped her hands on the hooded cloak. She leant forward, placing her elbows on the table and laid her chin in between her curled palm. She grinned like a child, and it was infuriating to look at.

"Alright Chat Noir, I'm an open book, ask me anything."

Adrien stifled his irritated growl and quietly reassured himself. She is merely a Hyde, and no good can ever come from a Hyde.

Now… what questions are there to ask? He probably should have thought of that beforehand because his open mouth produced nothing towards the Hyde interrogation. He cleared his throat, reached into his top pocket and drew out a small brown leather notebook and a small pencil. He opened to a clear page and quickly scribbled down ideas. Waiting patiently for his response, ladybug continued to stare at him intently. He looked up from the book, paused, then held out his pencil between his finger and thumb.  
Thinking of the correct phrase to say was troubling, but one question seemed to be appropriate. "What do you…" he started after some deliberation.

"But, I have my conditions," she interrupted, slowly leaning back into the chair and placing her hands in her lap. Adrien's face fell to his palm. "A question for a question," she continued, "I answer yours, you answer mine."

He sighed and looked tiredly down at the notes, then proceeded to run his hand through his blond locks. "Simple enough for me, do what you wish." He straightened his back and continued.

"First question; What do you remember before today?"

Ladybug didn't hesitate with her answer. "There is only one instant I call to mind, from twenty or so years ago," she said crossing her arms and recalling it like it was yesterday, "my host would have been roughly eleven at the time, growing up in a small bakery with two parents and by chance, lucky enough not to be poor. She worked hard to please her parents, her father a large man, her mother a small woman. However, she felt lonely…" Ladybug voice trailed off.

Adrien leant forward, "Please do not stop there… continue."

"Although she had a good life and a happy family, she didn't have many friends." Ladybug was telling Adrien like it was a meagre fact. "Mutual friendships like cousins and distant family acquaintances didn't count. She found they lacked her… level of curiosity."

Ladybug's gaze slowly shifted towards her lap, she smiled, "She would explore everything possible, and by age ten she was passionate about reactions. Physical or Chemical, both fascinated her to the fullest extent."

"Chemical reactions?" Adrien enquired, raising an eyebrow while scratching the words down in the notebook.

"I remember her driving hunger to create something she longed for. Something so unique she wanted everyone to be jealous of her feats." Ladybug looked up directly at Adrien, the cloak had sufficiently covered her face with its shadow. She gripped the trim of the hood and pulled it down off her head, the sea of deep blue hair hidden beneath the fabric released to the gentle wind.

"She wanted a friend that would be better at everything," Ladybug timidly bragged, her blue eyes looking dead into Adrien's, "better at running so they could keep up with her, better at jumping to leap to new bounds, better at climbing so she could share the world from the top of the tallest tree with them. So, in so few words… She created me…"

Adrien was in awe; another prodigy like himself was a Hyde.

She rattled on with the explanation, "Her parents feared for her life when she fell into a mysterious coma for four days. Nothing they tried would merit a response nor would wake her. To any doctor, her symptoms spelt fever. However, her expertise was not to empty conclusion."

"On the fourth night, I was born within the mind of this little girl, fresh from the void. A brilliant masterpiece, birthed from the genius and curiosity of a child. My appearance in the physical world caused her to forget everything during the week of roaming around in her body."

"Now be serious, that child created a Hyde that lasted a week?" Adrien snapped. "A Hyde can only last a maximum of twenty-four hours. You must be mistaken; A Hyde cannot have the capacity…"

"You may call a Hyde. But she called me Miraculous…" she interrupted, sticking her chin in the air. Adrien had long since stopped writing down what she was saying.

"That is quite amazing," he quietly remarked as he stroked his chin, "how do you know all of this?"

"Well after the accident, I was there for much of the events to unfold, but, she wrote me a note of all things. Everything else; I don't know how I am aware of such things. I just know," she explained, shaking her head. "It's like I have this subconscious voice hinting at all what happened."

"Were you… aware of everything that happened within the twenty-year gap of consciousness?"

"Some," she told Adrien. "If I were your Hyde, I wouldn't remember our current conversation. But I am sure he knows to want him gone."

"Good," Adrien sternly uttered. "The more he knows I hate him the more he will want to leave."

"You must be mindful that Chat Noir is still a Human," she replied equally as sternly. "He not only can inhabit your body, but he is also a part of you. Learn to respect yourself before you try to remove what is undesired."

"Now listen here closely. I am not going to let someone else rule my life without me and don't you try to become involved in my war!" Adrien rumbled at Ladybug, sending his fist onto the table and denting the surface.

She didn't react nor flinch at his outburst, but merely murmured to Adrien after a few silent moments.

"You claim you are a gentleman, yet you resort to picking me up by the neck and demolishing the table in order to make your point? You're more of a Hyde than I and you know it…"

Adrien stared intently at Ladybug.

No matter how he looked at it… she was correct.

His clenched fist slid off the table and he took a long and deep breath. He lowered his head and quietly apologised. His anger took the best of him once again, and he was genuinely regretful that a woman had to witness that.

Adrien looked down at his notebook. He had forgotten it was in his hand when his fist came down on the table. Now a crumpled roll of brown leather and paper, he pried it open to the bookmarked page. It was practically black with the amount of notes he took. From her mannerisms to the entire dialogue, the notes took everything in. Yet, he wasn't any closer to the final answer. The answer to the question that has been rattling his brain ever since the first Hyde incident. What is a Hyde?

His Hyde was a mongrel. Her Hyde was as delicate and as intelligent as, well, as a ladybug. It made no sense.

"Now, it is time for my question," Ladybug said with a bit of a mischievous smile. Adrien looked up from his notes and gave her a calm sigh.

"Alright," he said coolly with a slight bow of his head, "it's only fair. What do you want to know?"

"What is your relation with my hostess? Did you two get as close and informal as we are now?" she asked, leaning across the table with a playful grin.  
Adrien was taken aback at the question.

His neck and face began to warm up, his anger sparking up once again. "How dare you think that I have even been attracted to such a woman like… like… Good grief I have forgotten her name. Regardless! It is preposterous!"

"So, no," he grumbled in his anger. "I merely know this woman for research. It is strictly, and I repeat strictly a formal working relationship. Now with the information you have given me, she may even be more of a help than I had originally speculated," he lied.

He sent his fist down on the table again, "And what is with everyone assuming my romantic life has been already tainted by this woman?!"

Ladybug opened her mouth to say something, but then closed it, replacing it with a suspicious smile.

"You were going to say something," he stated furrowing a concerned brow and an accusing finger, "I demand to know what you're thinking right now."

"Nothing at all, you simply reminded me of Chat Noir." She smoothly raised the hood once again, her face disappearing into its shadows. Although he couldn't see her face he knew there was a smug look plastered across her face.

The conversation dropped after those two questions. Both seemed to pull back into their own business like they didn't want to talk to each other anymore. Ladybug picked up the pastry again and began eating, while Adrien sat sulking in his own anger, muttering to himself indignantly.

After getting bored of his own self-pity, he twisted in his chair and picked up a discarded newspaper from another table while Ladybug quietly ate the pastry. He unfolded the morning newspaper, and as suspected, the front page was about the Parisian Monster; 'Chat Noir…' He quickly flicked it open to a more entertaining section of the paper and began reading.

Behind the wall of paper, Ladybug munched on the sugary treat and looked intently at the black and white journalism.

"Chat Noir; Local terror is starting to pick up girls?" she read from the front page.

Adrien paused his reading and looked over the pages to see Ladybug peering over the table at the back of the newspaper, her head cocked and focusing solidly on the fine writing.

"When did you learn to read?" Adrien asked sarcastically.

"Twenty years ago when I had a week to learn, now shush, I am trying to study this article…" She placed her elbows down on the table and began scanning the page of information, all the while nibbling at a corner of the bun.

Adrien blatantly gave her an irritated glare. Exasperated he sighed, then continued with his own reading.

...ooo000ooo...

From afar, two unexpected stalkers of Adrien and Ladybug sat waiting in their discretion. They too had taken seating at a café table, but these two amateur sleuths positioned themselves far across the parlour and hidden behind their target's backs. The woman was dressed in a wide orange dress with long pagoda sleeves, and the man in a long beige trench coat and black suit. From within the crowd, they looked like any other couple sitting at the surrounding tables.

Little did Adrien realise their movements from the cobbler, then the café had been tracked by the infamous reporter Alya Césaire and her male companion. She enthusiastically popped a grape in her mouth and raised her compact folding binoculars in the direction of what she thought to be her best friend, Marinette. Her bored cohort sat idly by and merely watched his day being wasted away.

Alya suddenly punched Nino's arm to get his attention. "Look, look, look! They're reading the paper together. Oh, by the printers, how I want to go up and introduce myself to him. They look positively the perfect couple!" She looked on in anticipation of her friend and of "Marinette's secret lover." In the few days since she last saw the devious woman, Marinette had somehow caught the eye of this extremely handsome gentleman. Or so Alya believed.

"Amazing, oh wise Alya…" Nino said sarcastically, stretching his arms into the sky and cracking his back against the metal chair. Being bored was not unusual to a musician currently living in composer's block. He wasn't too sure if spending time with Alya would remedy the incurable disease, but it was a start.

"But do you know who even this man is?" Alya pressed Nino as she placed another grape in her mouth.

"No… But I have a feeling you're going to tell me," Nino muttered under his breath.

"His name is Adrien Agreste!" Alya quietly announced to Nino. "One of the most prominent scientists under the age of forty. He's a basic lady-killer with a body like the Vitruvian Man, and son to the also prominent, Commissaire Divisionnaire Gabriel Agreste! How could you not know him?"

"I," said Nino, stabbing his chest with his finger, "am supposed to be holed up in my studio transposing my pieces from violin to piano right now… I don't see the light of day unless it is nightfall." He fell silent for a little while. Nino drew a long breath then extended his hand, "Fine, pass over to me the binoculars."

He took the telescopic eyewear from Alya and pulled the chair into the table. He held the dainty opera glasses to his eyes and peered across the Plaza towards this apparently important gentleman.

Nino sat there gazing at the couple in question for a full thirty seconds before making his judgement. "You know for a secret lover, he doesn't look like he wants to be there…" he shot a humoured glance to Alya, "how relatable…"

She grabbed the binoculars out his hand and smacked him once again. "You wouldn't even be able to shave if it weren't for me, you, you, beautiful man."

"Love you too, my dearest." He leant back in the chair and waited patiently alongside her. "Any idea where they're going?" Nino said after holding the back of his head with his intertwined palms.

Alya gave a proud look, "I do indeed!"

"And…?" Nino asked waiting for the answer.

"They are obviously going to a party." Alya pulled the binoculars for the last time and turned her gaze to Nino. "I'm observant."

He let out a small chuckle at the sight of her enlarged eyes. "That's the New Year's Noble party, isn't it?"

"Yes, at least you have some common sense about you," Alya smiled as he lowered the binoculars.

Nino sighed and looked up to the sky. "All the politicians and important people gathered in the one place to celebrate a silly thing like moving around the sun. I am quite glad I turned down that invitation."

"You got Invited!?" she smacked him once again on the arm, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I was invited because I am a Musician, and I didn't take the invite because I am a Musician. I haven't the time to attend these petty excuses for entertainment." He folded his arms over his chest, "I would rather be with you than that poorly organised group of fattened criminals."

"That's very kind of you, Mr Lahiffe. You make me weak in the heart with the very thought."

Nino gave another chuckle. "I'm an interesting one, Mrs Césaire. That's why you love me."

"That I do, that I do." Alya nodded before blushing ever so slightly. "But you cannot talk, Nino the Famous Cello-Pianist. You have confessed your love for me too many times, some more than I have."

"Come now, I haven't gone overboard with the…"

"And I quote!" she held up her hand and repeated his words in an attempt of a manly voice, ""You are the music to my ears, oh how you make my heart Waltz to the sound of your voice.""

She could barely contain the laughter bottled up behind the statement. Nino himself stifling his chuckle once again.

Sitting away from the eyes of Adrien and Ladybug, Nino and Alya sat patiently, smiling as they waited for the next move of the unbeknownst Hyde and the Scientist.


	6. A Misguided Villain

"Uproot the trees if necessary!" Leon shouted at his two lackeys. "Find Chat Noir! Or by Napoleon himself, I'll mount your heads to a wall." The Inspector irately bellowed his orders, his voice carrying above the screams of Parisian Aristocracies who turned tail and fled the massacre.

He had spent all morning searching for the monster that would appease Papillon. Through hours of vigorous examination of all locations possible for a man of his filth to be hiding, he had come up with nothing. And he was beginning to lose his already thread-like patience.

This intensive search of Paris had led him to the last place he would expect the Monster to be hiding; Tuileries Garden. Owned by the Emperor, Louis Napoleon, the garden had been closed to the public since November and wouldn't open until May. However, that didn't exclude Noblemen and Noblewomen.

In this garden, over two hundred and twenty thousand square metres of land would be perfect to hide in plain sight. Barely anyone visited the frozen over fountains, or the leafless withered trees or the sea of open green grass lightly veiled with white pockets of the prior night's snow fall. The perfect hiding ground.

Hiding in plain sight is obviously the work of a coward. Particularly the inhuman monstrosity with no respect for the law whom Leon was hunting. It was just one more way to mock the Inspector; concealing himself under his nose the whole time, taunting the man with every action. It made him livid with fury.

During his search of the neighbouring suburbs, Leon speculated his theories on this monster, "Chat Noir". He had originally thought Chat Noir was a hostile creature, a beast in which to exterminate. But through time and patient thinking, he reasoned with himself. What if that kidnapped woman, Marinette, was right? What if he was a wolf in sheep's clothing? A man turned monster, and invisible to everyone.

After this epiphany, his rationalisation spiralled, and conspiracies flooding his head. The rest of the search, once a pursuit for a monster, became a man hunt.

Chat Noir would have to be a somebody no man could reproach. Someone so distinguished that no one would question his irregular actions. Someone who could leave at a moment's notice and become undetectable within minutes.

All these conclusions lead to him to believe Chat Noir was someone prominent in society.  
He snapped back into reality as his foot fell upon a champagne glass, the drinking chalice cracking under his boot fished him out from his hubbub of thoughts. He levelled his gaze back into the fray of noblemen running away from the scene and smiled.

How fortunate that at that very moment, there happened to be an opera of madness playing out right before him. A Noble's new year's party was underway. He hadn't read the guest list but he knew that anyone who was anyone would be attending. Noblemen, Princes, Scientists, and Prodigies; all individuals, in Leon's mind, who would merit candidacy for the position of Chat Noir. If his theories were correct, the Monster of Paris was a nobleman. This event would be the perfect time to capture Chat Noir and expose him to everyone.

He was a genius! It wouldn't bother his conviction if that meant hurting men, women, even the Emperor, to find Chat Noir! He would be once and forever more hailed the greatest inspector in Paris, hark France!

But he wasn't just going to give up being a justice of the peace. Every man is held accountable to a trial. In Leon's eyes, a fair trial seems an impractical act for any law breaker, but justice is through law. However, finding that creature and serving him justice, is needed of excessive force, is all…  
No law has been broken in Rossi's mindset. But Chat Noir has broken many a law.

Leon had Chat Noir slip from his grasp one too many times and he couldn't have it anymore. An Inspector was meant to be in control, he was to have an iron fist rule over all crime in the entire city! He needed that monster's head on the guillotine before the sun sets and he was the man who was going send the blade falling…

Leon scanned the area. Chat Noir could be anyone of these Nobles. But not even a Noble can escape the justice of humanity. Nobody of any stature could possibly escape the judgement of Leon Rossi.

Inside the Tuileries Garden, the ruckus stirred would have gotten the attention of the dead if possible. It was mere moments before the entire surrounding area was evacuated of pedestrians and the garden closed off.

Inside, however, is where the evil doing was hosting its revelry. Innocent politicians were thrown to the ground in interrogation, gentlemen ruffed up and Noblewomen tossed aside. The two young and strong policemen Leon commissioned beforehand took the lead, walking ahead and vigorously combing the area for information. They had their command: If the Noblemen are withholding evidence, they are of no use to anyone. Remove them.

Leon trailed behind in the wake of commotion, shouting brutally to anyone who could hear, to give up the location of Chat Noir, to let this become a peaceful negotiation and without any more suffering. But he doubted it would be that straightforward. These political pigs wouldn't even have the courage to fight back, let alone give up information.

Then he noticed a larger, fatter man from the corner of his eye. He stopped in his tracks when he saw the Mayor crawling away across the dirt, pitifully cowering with his tail between his legs. Seeing a man of his status grovelling in the muck, it looked so comedic. A smile spread across Leon's face, a taste of humour encompassing his lips. He stroked his chin devilishly as he strode beside the mayor's path.

Leon brought his boot down dead centre of his back, the blow pushing the overweight man into the ground and pinning him to the mud. The Mayor began withering like a cold and abandoned house pet left outside to the rain.

Watching someone so powerful become so weak in seconds; oh, how it is ever so… so… entertaining. Leon tried to withhold his amusement but it was almost pleading to be discharged. It begged to be released.

The Inspector's maniacal laughter resounded into the air. It was an evil, evil laugh, one that curdled the blood and sent shivers down spines. After he had his fill, he looked down at his hands. They were shaking uncontrollably.

'Was this what it is like to Chat Noir,' Leon thought to himself. Hurting people for his own gain? It felt disgusting. Like a spike through his gut. He planted his heel deeper into the spine of the Mayor, frustrated at this newfound uncomfortable pain. Yet, when he looked down, past his hands and at the man beneath his boot, something else stirred in his stomach. That feeling felt good. Satisfying from the pain. No, rather it felt fantastic. His entire being was wanting more, he craved this power. Being able to stomp into the ground whomever, and to make them fear him – he sensed the familiarity of it, like these actions, were natural to him. It felt ever so good having this much feeling.

Leon Rossi stepped over the Mayor, smiling, grinning, cackling at himself. If that was what it felt like to make the second most prominent man in Paris to eat the dirt… Just imagine what it would be like to do the same to Chat Noir… His primal instincts echoed… no, screamed in the hollow shell of his lost mind.

Find the monster. Hurt him. Break him.

Find the monster. Hurt him. Break him.

"Stop this, Inspector!" a half-hearted voice shouted from a distance behind the strutting villain. "You are to stop this immediately!"

Leon stopped. He slowly turned his head around, infuriated that he was interrupted. When he saw dozens of his men, all lined up in full riot protection, he whipped the rest of his body around to face them. Several had muskets pointed at his feet, others had batons and pistols meant for capturing criminals.

They were prepared for the worst.

Or so it seemed.

Leon saw the men were hesitant to step forward; fearful and scared of him. Each was looking directly at the Inspector; however, their eyes told the tale of frightened weaklings. He noted this and quickly took advantage of it.

He displayed his arms out and above his head, standing proudly among the dozens of unconscious bodies around him. He made sure they could see what he has done. His smile curled back upon his face, he could see their fear rising. His actions were a confirmation that he was the one who did this; he caused the well-known men that lay broken underneath his wake to be harmed. He didn't personally hurt them, but indirectly he caused their cruel suffering. Leon's own men, the men he trained and worked with every day of his miserable career, now feared him even more.

He didn't yell at them. No. He was smiling. He looked happy.

"What are you lot thinking of doing?" he shouted casually at the policemen, the smile still evident on his face. Leon looked around in a mighty manner as if the deed was magnificent. He gave a small cackle before his expression changed drastically. "What are you going to do? Now that is the real question." He spoke in an icy disposition, but still with a cold smile on his lips.

They all shuffled uncomfortably at his attitude.

"ARE YOU GOING TO ARREST ME?" he suddenly blasted at his men. They all jumped and raised their weapons, terrified of his voice alone.

He had control now. He could see the shaking rifles, the reluctant scuffling of feet, the general fear of the quivering mass. He guffawed at their concerned faces. He found them ever so amusing. He lowered his hands to his sides and calmed his voice.

"Gentlemen… You cannot be serious…"

Leon took a small step forward.

In an immediate response, his men took a step back in alarm, all shuffling backwards amongst one another. Leon unrelentingly kept his pace, now stepping over the countless men and women that littered the floor in large strides. Each step would merit another burst of fear from the police force in front of him. He almost had them running back to the precinct, the cowards.

"Won't one of you step forward?" Leon growled. "You are meant to be my men, you are meant to be the Finest of Paris." He picked up the pace. "If you have a quarrel with my methods, have the common man's decency to at least fight back! Won't one of you step forward and contest against my malevolence? Who of you will step forward!?"

"I shall!" a voice called from beyond the scene. Leon pulled to a halt and clenched his fist for a fight. All heads turned to the new found source of the speech. Silently, the men parted to give Leon a corridor view of his contester, and after they did, his rage grew. He saw someone who had influence above his own. A direct influence with Papillon, you could say. He hated this person with every ounce of his being, only barely coming second to Chat Noir.

There stood Adrien Agreste. The scientist stood proud and firm, adorned in a thick dark cloak with the sleeves hanging off his shoulders. Someone stood meekly behind him, but Leon couldn't get a proper look see. Adrien stepped forward with hands in his pockets and chest puffed out. He wore a serious expression, challenging Leon in virtue.

The men parted further as he made his way through the opening split.

"What do you want, Oh mighty Son of the Commissioner?" He venomously spat out the derogatory label. But he lowered his fists. "You have no business here! Leave before I am forced to inflict you harm."

Leon then raised his hand and pointed an accusing finger at the blonde striding towards him. "Or do you have a bone of contention against me?"

"I do indeed, Inspector," Adrien said addressing him properly. He played out in a formal manner but it was evident that Adrien was dangerously angry.

"Do you intend to fight me?" Leon retorted, bemused at the thought. He let out a roar of laughter and swiped at the air, "No one can beat me! I am invincible!"

"Have faith that I provide you with the pleasure of defeat, Leon Rossi." Adrien too spat out the name. "You are on a mission to catch a villain. And yet, here you are playing games with your men."

"I am not playing games, Agreste!" Leon burst out and strode towards Adrien. At this stage, the police force surrounding them finally clicked that they were no longer part of this battle. They turned tail and ran as the two men speedily strode to one another. Leon Rossi and Adrien stopped a breath away from each other, the dense tension in the air personified by their silence and the sparks of hatred coming from either one.

"You may have your father's name, but I will still strike your face."

"Pack up and leave, Rossi." Adrien hissed.

Leon raised his hands and grabbed the scruff of Adrien's shirt, he yelled into Adrien's face, "You mock me!?"

"You are a mockery of yourself."

"I do these actions for justice!" Leon shouted, his face filling with red rage. "I will not lose any sleep if I am called a monster because of these actions, but to catch this monster I must be a monster in return!"

Adrien merely looked down at the Inspector in disgust. "You are no monster. You couldn't achieve that title if you tried. You have no dirt on your hands, you, are merely a villain."

"A monster I tell you!" Leon shouted as he shook his fists in Adrien's shirt. "But I am better, stronger than Chat Noir! I outshine that miserable pest and his wicked ways!"

Adrien brought his open hand down on Leon's fists, smacking away the Inspector's grip and half-tearing away a layer of cloth along with it.

A look of shock encompassed the man. His hands held strips of cotton and stung from the striking. He took a step backwards; he originally felt, rather believed, that Papillon had given him this power to do anything.

He thought he was invulnerable.

The Inspector walked slowly backwards away from Adrien.

"You will see, Agreste!" he shouted as he regained his senses. "Not only will I catch Chat Noir, I will also free Paris of his turmoil!" He turned to leave.

"What if we know where he is?" another voice suddenly said from behind Adrien. A female voice.

Leon stopped immediately when he heard that voice, he stopped approximately twenty paces away from Adrien, frozen in his place. He knew that voice.

A woman stepped out from behind Adrien. She was dressed in a fresh red dress and heavy black hooded cloak.

His breath shook as his jaw became slack.

There in front of him stood Marinette. The kidnapped girl. The one Chat Noir kidnapped.

She took her place beside Adrien. How could she be alive? How was she here? Where was Chat Noir?

Then it clicked in Leon's mind.

Chat Noir abducted Marinette. Adrien had Marinette. Adrien was a Nobleman's Son. He was the obvious candidate.

Little did Leon know the woman before him, was not Marinette. Rather it was Ladybug, the now assistant to Adrien Agreste, but that did not matter at the time. To him, she was Marinette; 'the girl in danger'.

Leon lifted his shaking hand and reached far into the recesses of his overcoat coat. He produced a flintlock and aimed it directly at Adrien. He calmed his nerves and with a still hand, he pulled back the hammer back, and re-aimed.

"I give you three seconds to explain." Leon declared as he tensed his fingers around the trigger. His eyes glared at Adrien, his aim true to his chest.

Ladybug stepped forward. "Inspector, I do not know you personally, but I assure you; for your own safety, you do not want to do this."

"Three," he said slowly and firmly.

"I'm afraid you won't like what comes next," she said as simple as possible. After a short breath and an eye flick to Marinette and back, he counted down further.

"Two." His eyes now remain fixated down on the iron sight.

"You won't like what he will become," she said matter-of-factly.

"One."

"It's your funeral."

He pulled the trigger.

The crack of the gun echoed in the far reaches of the park. Ladybug took a surprised gasp; she didn't expect him to have enough bravado to fire the gun.

The whistle of the bullet rang in her ear but she didn't feel any discomfort from a mortal wound. She quickly turned her head and looked back at Adrien.

Adrien was still standing upright. He held out his fist out at arm's length, eyes closed as he bit down on his lip against the pain. Hot steam discharged from the gaps between his knuckles and fingers, drifted softly upward and fading away in the cool air. He leisurely released his grip, allowing the steaming and crumpled musket shot to fall to the ground with a thump against the dirt.

He lowered his arm to his side and he rolled his head; a satisfying crack came from each twist. He let out a long growl, a rumble that started in his throat then ended in on his tongue. He slowly opened his eyes.

The familiar green brilliance shone brightly towards the terrified Leon Rossi. His teeth glimmered as a large comedic grin spread across his face. A steady stream of steam rose from below his neck, his body drastically releasing heat and allowing it to escape from the layers of clothing via his collar.

He rolled his shoulders and took a step forwards to stand beside Ladybug. He bent down a little, placed a hand on her head and gave it a small pet. He smiled and seemed delighted.

"You're adorable," he gleefully commented before bringing his gaze up to the Inspector. His face darkened and his smile cursed itself into a frown.

"Now please excuse me, Milady. I have to deal with this pest."


	7. Doubt in the birthplace of Inception

The Inspector dropped his useless flintlock to the ground and he tried steady himself.

The bullet he fired just moments ago lay like a small lump in the dirt. The metal's surface was steaming hot from its expulsion from the gun, but the bullet wasn't what worried him. After he had just shot a man, he couldn't see any blood on it. He attention rose to Mr Agreste…

No, wait... His attention rose to Chat Noir and his worry turned to fear. Leon had never felt so scared in his life. His body was numb. His vision was sharp, but all he could focus on was the deep penetrating eyes of the monstrosity glaring him down. Everything else was a blur. His lust for power was a forgotten thought. He felt like a vicious dog, whimpering at the hand of a man who owned a whipping cane. Sweat and tremors grew heavier in his hands, the paralyzing gaze entering his very soul felt if its prowess was increasing.

Doubt and fear was all Leon felt.

Who could compete against a man capable of catching a musket shot with his bare hands?

This had become a problem Leon Rossi could not solve. He needed a brute squad to save him from this trouble. For if he were to stay, he would surely perish.

But he could not flee. At first he thought his own mind was betraying him, forcing his legs to lock up and his body to shudder. But after quick examination, he knew what was holding him there in place.

Pride, the very same trait he used to climb the ranks of the police force, would not allow him to leave. His mind screamed at him, 'Leon Rossi never backs down from a fight.' Sense and logic can be damned for all he cared, the pride in his heart was first and foremost.

He clenched his hand into a fist, fear rattling his entire being. Chat Noir was mere steps away, waiting for the inspector's move. After many moments passed, Leon's arms raised themselves, drawing near his face as he clenched them in a boxer style manner.

Fight or Flight. Leon. Chose. Fight.

Chat Noir gave a smug laugh before he cautiously paced around the inspector. He circled the man, taunting him with his rising steam and a cocky stare. Leon kept his stance ready, swiveling on heel while bracing himself to be head first for any moment.

In his thoughts, he admitted he was terrified of fighting Chat Noir one-on-one. This was the creature of the night, the terror of Paris. Leon was only human in his fear. He had seen many battles in his life, fighting for freedom, peace, solace. He was afraid for every single one of them. This fight was no different. His mind and stomach were doing somersaults, and his fists clenched harder. He believed that he possessed this awesome power surging through his veins; a power that fed his desire for dominion over the weak. He knew Papillon gave him a strength he didn't know he had before, to do the things no mere human can do.

He needed to call upon this power. Like what that mongrel Adrien Agreste did to make himself Chat Noir. A calling of power that bestowed this gift upon its master. He needed that calling! When Leon looked into the brilliant green eyes of Chat Noir, he could see power. A lot of power. More power than Leon could ever imagine. He wanted it badly. To save his life, he needed that power!

And for a split second, he felt something.

Something brewing deep down in his chest.

An orange amber feel, that could only be described as a increasing warmth.

But he had to no time to question what it was, for Chat Noir suddenly sprang into action. The idle pacing back and forth now switched to a full-on charge towards the Inspector, a murderous resolute consuming the air and plaguing every thought.

And all he could do was watch.


End file.
